The Phantom's Childhood
by AmadErik
Summary: A little oneshot story based on Gaston Leroux/Susan Kay's Phantom of the Opera. Erik's childhood memories.


My name? It is Erik. Without any other name, simply Erik. It isn't even my real name, you know. I am not sure if I have a name at all. I was born...? Yes, I was, this is my problem, sir. So, where was I born? In a little village near Rouen, France. I don't know when, it is a though question. I am sure of the year, it was 1825, and my zodiac sign is Scorpion, so it must be in late October- early November. No, they never mentioned an exact date. My Birthday never was a holiday everyone wanted to celebrate, I think you understand. I don't know my mother's name either. I always called her Mother.

It is a very strange and laughable coincidence that my Mother saved my life when I was born, but she did not want that, I think.I did not cry out after the birth and the midwife stated that I haven't even lived a second, thank my mother when she looked down got so scared of my face that she accidentally kicked me off of the bed and I fell on the ground, hitting my back. For some seconds I was gasping then I collected all my strength and cried out with full effort to everyone's biggest disappointment.

My father? I know even less of him, I only know he was a contractor and he never saw me. He is a lucky person. My poor unhappy mother contradicted herself often when she talked about him to me. When I upset her, which wasn't hard to do at all, she would accuse me that my father had left because of my monstrous face because he saw me once and he ran out of the house, leaving as my Mother never saw him ever again, but on her quiet days when she wasn't angry, only sad, and maybe she felt some compassion to me she would tell me my father died some months before my birth. I don't know what is the truth, and I never wanted to find out to be honest.

So you want me to tell you about my childhood? Did I have one at all? Well, I was small, but I am not sure I had a childhood like everyone else. Well, so you want me to tell you stories? What stories? I won't tell you everything from my childhood, don't even dream of it. It would be awful to me and you too. You want memories? Well... what is my first memory, let's see...

January, 1826

Bells. Yes, little bells, these are the first thing I can recall. My poor unhappy mother gave me at least this happiness that I could make music. At first I couldn't reach them, just with my fingertips, but after I could sit up I could play them easier. It was the main reason I wanted to sit up in cradle if I think about it. I can hear the sound in my mind even now though it was decades ago. My mother was happy about this, as I left her alone for the whole day. I only saw her when I cried, not too often. I did not bother her much, but she wouldn't even like it any other way. Back then our relationship was a pleasant one. She could forget about my existence and I enjoyed myself.

When did I get the mask? A few hours after my birth, my Mother would always say. She made my first mask out of my father's handkerchief after I was christened and everyone made sure I was alive. It was the first thing she did about me. You have a valid point about I should have an original name if I was christened, but I have to confess you I was never called that, whatever it was. My mother did not really talk to me, but if she had to because it was necessary, she called me little monster usually and another names like this, but I never had a name like everyone else.  
I am sure that my mother was praying that God would take me as he gave me, as I got every possible illness that helped many children in my village to know Jesus better earlier than they or their parents would have liked it, but I always healed. The village's doctor told stories in the pub about me being impossible to kill even though I was a little bag of bones. He did not dare to come close to me unless I was tied to a chair even if I wore the mask. If I was ill I was prepared for the worst, mother tied me to a chair tightly that I could not move any of my body parts and it felt horrible with me feeling sick otherwise as well.

No, I never tried to remove the mask. At first I was so tiny that I did not even know I was on this world, not that I could guess how to get rid of the mask. Of course it wasn't comfortable and it isn't comfortable now either, but still better than showing the world what lies beneath.

March, 1827

The next thing I can recall is that I am learning how to walk. The help my mother gave me about this issue was that she picked me out of the cradle and put me on the ground, leaving me to crawl and stand and fall as I pleased. The door was closed, so I could not crawl out of the room and I could not reach the knob to open the door, so she thought I was safe. I was able to surprise her when I had a nasty head injury when I tried to stand up holding the cradle which fell and made me fall as well.

But it wasn't my most serious injury.  
Once when I could walk pretty well without holding furniture, my mother left the room and forgot to close the door as she usually did. I was curious to see the open door and according to my memories I wasn't out of that door ever in my life before, so I walked out. I saw the stairs and wanted to go up but after a few steps I lost my balance and fell down on the stairs, getting seriously injured. I think my mother hoped that I will kindly leave this world after that and she will get rid of my sight, but I, as usually, completely healed again. I was very much afraid to go upstairs in my childhood because of this memory. I prefered to stay in the cellar where I spent my childhood, I only walked up if it was completely necessary.

Did my mother beat me? Yes, she did sometimes. And she cried. Oh God, I did not have problem with she beat me as I sure deserved it when she did, but her tears were like thorns in my heart. I knew from a very young age that those tears were because of me. She was so beautiful, and her face was always full of tears. Tears I have given her no matter how much I did not want to.  
Did she abandon me? Well though question. The physical way, no as I got everything I needed. She cured me when I was sick, she gave me clothes, gave me food, took care of me. She educated me because she wanted that I would be at least clever if I am ugly as hell. The emotional way, yes. I could not talk to her or go close to her, she did not touch me if it wasn't necessary and she did not let me touch her either. She would not let me even touch her dress. If she could do it, she just pretended I did not exist at all. I was never allowed to approach her closer than the door of her room. I had to stand at her door if I wanted something and tell her what was my problem but I had to leave instantly so she could come out as she refused to leave her room till I was standing there so she might touch me accidentally.

But in a way, it was good for me. It prepared me for my later life. I know if she kissed and cuddled me in all my childhood I would have lost when I left that house. Like this I learned to take care of myself early, I learned that I can only solve things by myself because there is no one else to help me.

September, 1829

I was almost four years old when I said my first word. Mother thought I will never ever talk. I have to laugh at my first word it is so much like me. Mother told me something and I said "Non!" Sure I got a slap after my mother woke up from her surprise, but I was so proud of myself that I can finally talk. Why so late you ask? Please tell me from whom I could have learned it earlier. Mother did not talk to me when I was little she only started to send me away from her way when I was about 3 years old, but our communication has ended right at this point. After my birth we did not have any guests, so I could not learn from them either. It is not much to learn from, is it? After she found out I will be able to talk she took the effort to talk more to me so I could imitate her and by the age of 4 and a half I was talking like everyone else at that age. Though I did not like to talk too much and I was trying to search for another thing to learn...

November, 1829

I learned to read as well with the little help of my mother. She would tell me the name of the letters and how did they look, the rest I could figure out by myself. I was reading all day from that time, mother gave me all the books we had in our house, without selecting. Prose, poetry, mechanical studies, anything. At least I wasn't in her way. I had a good memory, I was able to tell the French translation of Shakespeare's sonnets by one reading only. I could draw, read, and by reading many books about mathematics I was able to count better than my mother.

Seeing this fact my mother wanted to teach me to write as well, because she realized that was the only thing I couldn't do yet, so she showed me how to hold the pen. here started the problem, as she always gave the pen in my right hand but I could never write nicely that way and I got absolutely hysterical over that. She had enough of that and I usually got double punishment for writing with left hand and for throwing a tantrum. She would always say it was sure I was from the devil as people who love God would never try to write with left hand. After the numerous useless beatings she finally learned to just ignore my left handedness and she just told I couldn't be saved.

After some months I was bored about not finding any more books to read and I was instantly searching for another thing to learn: music. As I always loved music, the idea was just so obvious. Sadly, I wasn't content with just singing. I wanted to learn how to play an instrument.

- Buy me a piano, mother. - I stepped at her door one day.

- And what else do you need? - she asked angrily - Should I not buy you a whole orchestra to be able to dance on my nerves even more than you do now?

- I want a violin then. - I said, not giving up.

- You are not getting anything, and now go and leave me alone.

- A recorder. - I said, not even paying attention to mother getting angrier and angrier.

- Do one for yourself and get lost at last or I will make an instrument out of your skin.

- You would not dare to touch me. - I moaned while walking downstairs, but I actually liked the idea. I made my own recorder in 2 weeks. Of course the first few ones were prototypes and they did not sound good at all, but I kept trying until I could make the one I was totally content with.

I played the melodies I wrote and realized that mother was smiling a lot when she heard me play or sing. I wished she would have smiled like that all the time, she was so beautiful when she smiled. I was so happy to know that there was something I could make her happy at least for a little time in my life. Her face was so sad anytime I saw her that my heart wanted to break when I saw her.

August, 1831

Years have passed like this, I lived my own life trying to handle the constant disgust of my mother towards me, however I did not understand the reason of it. I got used to the facts that my mother never touches me unless it can't be avoided, that she looks at me always the way I have just committed a sin, that she never talks kindly to me, but I did not understand why.

I was seeking her love, her affection, I would sit on the edge of my bed many nights, crying myself to sleep many times because of she being so cold and unhappy with me.

One day I decided that I will make our relationship finally better.

She was sitting in her armchair, looking out of the window when I entered the room. She looked so sad again and I decided I will try to cheer her up. I walked towards her silently and I put my hand on hers. She got startled when she realized I was in the room touching her and she quickly brushed my hand off of hers and I could see she got a shiver.

- Go away. - she sighed.

- Why don't you love me? - I asked softly.

- Stop this silly game and go to your room.

- No! - I removed the mask and threw it on the ground. - I want you to look at me and I am fed up with this mask and will never put it on ever again.

She creamed and jumped up from her chair and threw the mask at me.

- Put it on right now!

- No!- I yelled and took a step towards her. - Never!

She ran out of the room and slammed the door. I did not understand the whole scene and needed to release my frustration and my anger somehow so I kicked the furniture in the room. In the corner I suddenly realized a mirror. My mother never let me enter this room before so I did not know we had a mirror. I stood in front of it because I was curious of what is about me to scare my mother so much. When I looked into the mirror I screamed as well... and I only remember that I woke up in my bed after a terrible nightmare in the cellar after that.

After I have seen my face I had nightmares for months. And I think that was the point I started to go insane. I needed love more than ever before and the more I was trying to follow my mother the angrier and more desperate she got about it. She was afraid of me and at the end she refused to be in the same room with me. Even my singing and music could not make her fear and disgust go away any more. One day when I heard her painful sobs through the door of her room, it was no question for me anymore what to do. I silently left the house.

I don't hate my mother. The only feeling I have for her is sorry. I am sorry that she had to live six years in a monster's company. No one can blame her that she did not like that. I wanted to make her happy by getting rid of me, and giving her a new, happier life.

That night, as I was afraid of people I wanted to search for a place to sleep that no one would visit at night: the cemetery. It was so calm and quiet place and I could understand the dead sleeping so peacefully there. This little skeleton did even fit there. I dared to remove the mask when I sat on a grave and was trying to get comfortable. I was curious about who would be my companion for the night, so I checked the tombstone for a name. "Erik Delage (1666-1740)" I loved the name "Erik" very much, and as I did not have any name, I found it right to pick it up if we met because of this strange coincidence. So that's how I got my name :Erik.


End file.
